Party Favor

by gasmaskangel

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Pinkie Pie, Slice of Life, Anthro, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Rarity, Other
Length: 4975

Pinkie Pie needs your help for a party she's organizing with Rarity. You probably should have asked for details before agreeing though... M+/M clopfic.

Life in Ponyville really doesn't differ a whole hell of a lot from life on earth once you get used to the vegetarian diet and the technicolor population. All except Pinkie Pie, who needs your help with something really super important!

This story was born on derpibooru. It features a male on male gangbang, sensory deprivation and moderate bondage. Its pretty much all mindless clop, I hope you enjoy it.

NOTE: THE FOLLOWING IS PRETTY MUCH ALL MALE ON MALE CONTENT, SERIOUSLY, THE CLOSEST IT GETS TO STRAIGHT IS FUTA ON MALE. PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT LEAVE ANY COMMENTS STATING SURPRISE OR DISAPPOINTMENT THAT IT IS NOT STRAIGHT.

Published 2014-11-17 04:20:06 UTC
Last updated 2014-11-17 04:20:06 UTC

Chapter 1

It really is amazing what you can get used to. Life simply goes on as your circumstances change and you either adjust or spend the rest of your life bemoaning getting drunk around that particle collider. Yes it wasn’t one of your better ideas, and yes it did drop you into this strange other world, but hey, the locals are nice once you convince them that you aren’t going to eat them or their children and you’ve managed to build a life here in Ponyville.

This morning you awake and check your fridge, finding only a half used bottle of mustard and take out that is likely on the verge of developing sentient life. Your stomach growls, and for just a moment you consider downing the take out, but frankly you’re not super eager to entrust your stomach being pumped to physicians who have never operated on a human before.

So you leave your home and head for one of the few places in Ponyville open and serving food at seven in the morning, Sugarcube Corner. You smile as you approach the place. Ponies have an interesting approach to architecture. Sure most of them live in buildings that while heavy on pastels and heart shapes fret sawed into every piece of would not supporting the roof, but then you get buildings like Sugarcube corner.

It was built to resemble the tasty baked goods the proprietors sell, and in any community on earth it would be an eyesore or at best a tourist trap but here it is just the town bakery.

Inside you find a small assortment of ponies enjoying their breakfasts and a cup of coffee, as well as the mouth watering aroma of freshly baked donuts. Despite this you almost turn around and find someplace else to eat as the pony running the counter is not an encounter you relish this early in the morning.

Pinkie Pie is a nice girl really, if a bit odd and far too chipper for your tastes but she is friendly and kind. Its just that no one should have to deal with someone who smiles that broadly before they’ve had their coffee, and also she alone of all the mares in this town has yet to figure out that she just isn’t your type.

Still, the scent of those donuts and the coffee are not to be denied, almost enough to truly wake you up in their own right really. Your stomach growls and you step up to the counter.

Pinkie smiles, and you have to admit that if you were into girls she does have the sort of grin you could see falling in love with.

“Hey ya Anon!” she says, and even if it is far too early for someone who speaks this loudly you can’t help but return her smile, then she ruins it by dropping her voice to a sultry tone and thrusting her generous chest forward, “see anything you like?”

She flutters her eyelashes at you, and you sigh and point to the bear claws.

“Those look excellent, two of them and a coffee please,” you say, waiting for the flirtation you know is about to come.

“Would you like any cream with that?” she replies, again thrusting her chest forward.

“No, thank you,” you say as politely as you can manage.

“Spoilsport,” she says and pouts at you before filling your order.

You take your order and find a seat. The bear claws are as delicious as they looked, and you soon wolf them down in between swallows of scalding black brew. You take the time to consider your plans for the day.

Rent is coming up, and while your landlord is pretty lenient regarding being paid on the exact date you’d really rather not push your luck. Then there is your barren fridge to think about, and suddenly the bear claw loses some of its luster. That’s three more bits you’re down, though at least the coffee is complimentary.

With a bitter smile you reflect that you can’t even turn to prostitution for money as pony society is so open and casual about sex that it would never pass any of their minds to do it for money.

You are pondering heading over to Sweet Apple Acres and seeing if they have any work that needs doing when Pinkie Pie slides into the seat across from you.

“Can I help you?” you ask the mare, trying to remain polite.

“You can actually!” Pinkie replies, “thanks for offering! Wowie, I thought I’d really have to sweet talk you into it but-”

“Pinkie,” you say flatly, “I meant that more in the sense of ‘why did you just sit down across from me?’”

“Oh,” if Pinkie is at all bothered by your tone it doesn’t show, “I need a really, really big favor!”

You sigh and sweep a hand through your hair, “I’d like to, but I’ve really got to make some money today.”

“No problem,” the mare says with a wave of her hand, “I can totally pay you! Let’s see… Rarity is paying me four hundred bits, so how about two hundred bits?”

You choke on your coffee. 200 bits is healthy chunk of change, easily enough to pay your rent and put food in the fridge. Name brand food even! The mention of the dressmaker is also reassuring. Rarity is an extravagant, over dramatic mare, but she’s also quite generous and compared to Pinkie an absolute pinnacle of sanity and rationality.

“What is she paying you for?” you ask, knowing there has to be a razor somewhere in the candy floss.

Pinkie looks around as if the room were full of spies and leans across the table to whisper in your ear.

“She wants my help throwing a party!” the mare says, and while her voice is pitched low you’d be amazed if anyone actively listening hadn’t heard her.

“Shocking,” you say but you can’t keep the smile off of your face. Pinkie had thrown you a party when you’d first moved in, and it was easily one of your fondest memories of Ponyville.

“What exactly do you need my help with?” you take another sip of your coffee.

“Oh just delivering a party favor,” the mare says, “can you be here at five? Thanks!”

Before you can respond Pinkie has jumped up and scuttle back behind the counter. You shake your head and finish the pastries and your coffee before leaving Pinkie a tip and heading off to find something to occupy your time till five.

As it happens the Apples do need some help out at the farm, and you spend the day helping Applejack and Big Mac pull barrels out of storage. You always enjoyed working here, partially because its good honest work and partially because you enjoy the company.

Apple Bloom is hovering around the whole time, helping out where she can but mostly chattering to you about anything and everything that crosses her mind. Whenever she is out of Big Mac (who is working without a shirt so you can see the sweat beading and rolling down his muscular shirt,) cracks you and AJ up with some of most shockingly filthy jokes you’ve ever heard and at noon Applejack busts out some of her family’s infamous hard cider to wash down the heaping portions of hot apple pie, cheese, bread and apple sauce that make up your lunch.

When you leave, granny presses a bundle of food and jug of cider into your hands as the general along with fifty bits for your work. The general consensus is that you are far too skinny for your own good.

You almost forget your appointment with Pinkie Pie, and at the last minute rush over to Sugarcube Corner where you find her waiting outside.

“Ok,” you say, “where’s this party favor we’re supposed to deliver?”

Pinkie smiles impishly and blushes a bit. You feel as if there is a stone in your gut.

“Welllll…” she says, “I may have told a teeny tiny little fib.”

“What is it?” you find yourself taking an involuntary step back.

“I don’t really need your help delivering the party favor,” she pulls out a rag, “say, does this smell like chloroform to you?”

Before you can do anything she darts forward and presses the rag over your nose and mouth. She is surprisingly strong and you feel yourself going limp and slumping into her arms.

“Dammit Pinkie…” you moan as the world goes black.

***

When awareness returns to you it brings gifts of dull, almost acidic ache in your shoulders, pins and needles numbness in your hands and a damp chill kissing your naked flesh.

You are suspended by your arms in utter darkness, the cool silk binding your wrists and ankles is little to no comfort and you soon come to realize that you have been blindfolded as well. You cry out, more a groan of groggy discomfort than the bellow of outrage you had meant.

The sound of your distress comes out muffled and distant. You find your mouth full of the taste of plastic, and an obstruction in your ears that can only be ear plugs.

Your mind is stirring more and more towards wakefulness but not rationality. Fear rises like the tide and even through the fatigue of your day and your absolute exhaustion you thrash and let out muffled shouts that succeed only in making the ballgag slick with your spittle and tiring you till all you can do is sag in your restraints, shivering at the cold sweat that drenches your naked, quivering form.

There is a sudden change in this room, wherever it is, but the nature is not one you can easily identify with your senses taken away from you. Perhaps it is a subtle shift of the air currents, or a subtle hint of living smells not your own. Regardless, you suddenly know that someone is in the room with you.

For a moment you wonder if it might be Pinkie Pie, and you wonder in a fit of acidic terror if everyone has always underestimated the depths of her eccentricity. Perhaps she means to kill you, to slaughter you like a kosher cow back your own world. You can nearly see the knife glimmering in the darkness behind your blindfold and you tense up, waiting for an attack that never comes.

You realize that there is not just one other person in the room with you then, there are many. Their eyes roam over your naked form, and you find yourself twisting to try to hide yourself from them. If you concentrate you can almost make out the sound of voices, mostly masculine but here and there you think you can detect the lighter, higher voices of mares.

One of them is near you now. This one smells of earth and sweat and the fields. Despite your situation you feel your manhood begin to harden as this stranger's eyes drift over your body.

A hand, strong and calloused by work but still coated with the satin softness of a ponies coat caresses your jaw. It is oddly comforting, a small reassurance in the dark. It slides down along the curve of your throat and for a moment you tense, waiting for it to tighten around your windpipe but no violence is offered.

The hand drifts to your shoulder, even as another strokes across your belly. You Find yourself leaning into the gentle touch.

A third, this one thin and feminine finds your back, and you draw away from it touch further into the embrace of those strong, masculine arms. You think you can hear a soft, lady like chuckle and muffled words.

There is a hint of lilac scent in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the room and the pony that first touched you.

Soon there are more hands. One teases over your nipples, already hard from the rooms chill. Another drifts down the small of your back to roughly squeeze and fondle your buttocks. Others drift over your arms, tracing the taut muscle and caressing the ticklish flesh of your arm pit.

All are strong, powerful and wonderfully gentle as they explore your flesh. More and more you find yourself relaxing into the touches. More and more you feel your own flesh growing hot and hard.

They grow rougher and you moan as one at your back begins to rub deep and hard at the still tensed muscle. Some lightly rake their nails across your back, belly and ribs. By now you are fully aroused, your manhood begging for attention and yet the hands, those terrible, tormenting, wonderful hands always avoid it.

Rough fingers stroke over your inner thigh, so close that you can feel their heat against your shaft but no contact is made. You whine and thrust forward only to be denied.

All fear has been forgotten in this haze of hunger and lust.

Things begin to grow more intense, the smell of those around you somehow becoming thicker and muskier. You feel a masculine face rub against your ribs, a kiss planted on the back of your neck. Hot breath in your ears followed by a gentle nip as fingers dig into the flesh of your buttocks, kneading and pulling them apart to expose your puckered entrance.

Someone stoops behind you, their breath on your thighs and you feel the soft electric tingle of magic in the air.

Fear tries to return and you tense yourself, only for it to be beaten down and the tension dissipated under strong hands rubbing, stroking and massaging every inch of you save the one's you are most desperate for.

Whatever spell is being cast is set off then, and you're feeling the warm soothing energy sinking into the flesh of your backdoor, coaxing it open ever so slightly and spilling up into your insides. It is as if warm, pulsing liquid is being used to fill you up, and then being absorbed by your body, leaving only sensitive, pleasant tingling in its wake.

You have half a second to wonder if you'd just been subjected to some sort of magical enema when soft lips kiss your backdoor, followed by a long, loving lap and all thought is driven from your mind by the sheer bliss of it, and you faint from pleasure when the pony at your back returns and their tongue slithers up inside of you to probe and lick for half a minute before withdrawing and leaving you needy and desperate to be touched back there again.

You do not have to wait long.

Someone unties your ankles and nudges your legs apart. Another spreads and kneads your buttocks in their work roughened hands.

Something cool and slick is dripped down onto your puckered anus, followed by a pair of fingers that rubs it into your skin. You pant, gasp and moan at every touch, doing your best to lean back into the caress as your asshole is lubed up.

One finger, then the second plunge into your eager hole and you clamp down onto them involuntarily. Whoever is fingering you is more than happy to oblige, hooking their fingers to scrape along your inner walls and to massage your prostate.

All too soon the fingers are removed and you cannot stifle the moan of disappointment that rises in your throat.

That soon dies away as your hands are unbound and you are allowed to collapse to the floor. You might have used this as an opportunity to remove your gag or your blindfold. Instead your freed hand, still numb and clumsy after your long suspension dives between your legs to stroke and fondle your cock. You are desperate to cum, so hard it hurts but you can get no more than a few strokes in before your arms are gently guided away from your needy organ.

Your hand is guided to something with silky smooth skin, pulsing with warmth and obscenely thick. You gasp as the realization dawns and you wrap your fingers around a stallionhood as wide as a pop can and need less guidance for your other hand which first fondles hefty balls before finding the underside of a second shaft.

Another stallion steps forward, his mighty cock only half erect and brushing against your face. He runs his fingers through your hair and stops at the buckle of the ball gag.

It seems as if everyone is waiting for some sign to begin, and then you feel again those same feminine hands from before grip your hips, and hot stallion flesh is slid between your buttocks.

He, or possibly she begins to grind against you. Pulling back until you can feel the flared tip just against your skin and the warm wetness of precum before sliding forward until churning, fuzzy balls press against you.

Then all at once it is gone. A half second later you feel the tip of that mighty cock against your eager entrance.

The stallion with his cock brushing against your face undoes the buckle of the ball gag and a heartbeat later it is removed from your mouth. You take a moment to flex your jaw and lick your lips.

There are a lot of things you could say. You could scold them for the kidnapping and sexual assault for instance. That is right off the table for now. You at least want them to make you cum first before getting into any of that. You could throw in something pithy along the lines of "you could have at least bought me dinner first."

The first thing you actually think to say is "oh god, fuck me now!"

However the pony at your back has other plans. They thrust into hard and fast, and your first vocalization is a scream of pure ecstasy. Even at only a few inches into your well lubed asshole you are stretched and filled more than you ever have been in your life. The flare of the stallionhood's head pushing and scraping along your walls bringing thrills of pain and hot shuddering pleasure at the same time.

You feel their hand's gripping your buttocks tight, and can almost hear a hiss of breath at your sheer tightness, but worrying about such things is for people whose asses aren't being slowly filled by thick, wonderful cock.

You regain your composure a bit, enough to begin stroking the cocks in your hands, though your motions are shuddering and jerky. Your mouth, left hanging open after your cry of pleasure died away is soon put to good use as the half hard stallion in front of you slips himself inside. He tastes of salty sweat and an overpowering, earthy flavor that you could never adequately describe.

Being filled at both ends is a new experience for you, though it is a welcome one.

Slide your tongue around the stallion's head and feel him growing hard in your mouth as you suck and lick, a feeling of depraved satisfaction grows in you. Soon you're tasting his salty, watery pre, and you swallow more of him so that it drips directly down your throat. You hum and moan around the intrusion, as much to pleasure him as it is because the pony behind you is slowly pushing more and more of themself into you.

Of everyone there, you cum first. A combination of being filled more than you ever have been before, your previous arousal and the sheer dark, kinky, filthiness of the situation conspires to send you over the edge. It always begins with a feeling as if your entire being has been drawn taut with your manhood as the anchorpoint. For a single silvery second you balance on that tension, your balls drawing in tight and full of fire, your mind sliding through razor sharp spirals of pleasure and then beautiful, rapturous release. Your cock jerks, spraying its load onto the ground beneath and it feels as if never ends. Rope after rope of liquid fire spewing from you and onto the floor below.

And it only gets better as the medial ring of the pony using your ass pushes in.

In the utter darkness of the blindfold, you see stars. Brilliant light fills you in that moment and you never want it to end.

But end it does, that heavenly rapture slowly ebbing away as you are come down to the raw red lust of the moment. Your senses feel dulled even more than being blinded and deafened had already done for you.

It builds back slow as you are fucked, as you suck, as you jerk. You can feel the heat of those around you almost like a physical force, filling you and lifting you.

One of the stallions you were jerking off cums next. He spurts like a volcano, removing himself from your hand and aiming directly for your face.

As his hot cum splashes into your hair, onto your temple and rolls down your cheek, you find that you are infact hard again.

God how long has it been since I've had a good hard fuck? you wonder as his spent cock is soon replaced with another. It is the last truly coherent though you have for awhile.

The pony pleasuring your backside finally bottoms out in you. The process has been long, slow and ungodly wonderful. You feel their heavy balls resting against your own and for a moment they rest there.

You bring off the stallion in your mouth soon after that and his cum is like a firehose down your throat. You eagerly swallow every mouthful you can but it is simply more than you can cope with, and you have to open your lips to let the excess spill out down your chin.

It all fills you, sitting warm and thick and heavy in your belly. You save one last mouthful to show as he goes flaccid. This is a trick you used to pull with guys back home, show them your mouth full of their salty load before swallowing it down, but before you can do that he kisses you.

The two of you push the load back and forth in your mouths, your tongues wrestling and sliding over one another in glorious obscenity. When you part, half was in his mouth and you happily swallow down what was left.

A new cock soon presents itself, the owner stroking it over your sticky face before sliding it into your waiting mouth to be licked clean.

Having had their rest, the pony behind you begins to pull back, your walls clamping down, desperate to keep you wonderfully filled and sated and driven mad with the ecstasy as the head scrapes your walls. You can feel the pre pouring out, lubing you up more and more to make the rutting slippery and delicious.

The pull out to the medial ring before thrusting back inside in a single smooth motion, making you moan lustily around the cock in your mouth.

That was only the prelude, soon the pony at your back is rutting you in earnest, their cock sliding in and out with deceptive ease, balls slapping against your own and with each thrust it seems as if their flare is growing larger and more pronounced.

They thrust into you harder and harder, your own arousal echoing theirs, then at last you feel them shaking, and slender arms are wrapped around your chest as whoever she is reaches climax.

You know it is at least someone who would prefer to be known as a she, you feel her soft, warm breasts press against your back, her lips kissing your neck and feel the curled and coifed mane, now bedraggled and tangle brush against your skin.

You're pretty sure you just got ass fucked by Rarity, but that is not your present concern. Her climax is immense, her cock jerking inside of you as it erupts with what feels like gallons of molten hot jism. It fills you like fire, and you can't remember the last time you felt so alive as it seems to stretch you unnaturally.

She is still cumming when she pulls out, ropes of her seed flying across your back and a torrent of it spilling from your well fucked hole. The feel of the hot cum flowing down your legs, even dripping over your balls is too much and you cum for the second time that night, even as Rarity is replaced with a new cock, this one already eager to fuck and sliding in much easier now that you have already been loosened up.

It seems to last for an eternity. You are never without a cock in both mouth and ass for longer than a few minutes, and even then you are pleasuring or being pleasured. More than one stallion licks and sucks the cum from your backside before going, and despite this they soon have begin cumming on you instead of inside as there is simply no room left for more cum.

You feel that you can put names to some of those who use you that night. Rarity certainly, she makes use of your ass and mouth at least twice more before she is either spent or otherwise occupied, but there is also a stallion who you are certain is Big Mac from his scent. He more than lives up to the name if it is him. There is also Caramel, more recognized by his slim, fit body when drew in close to you on his orgasm, Time Turner who fellated you perhaps as a way to return the favor and Thunderlane who had wrapped his wings around you as he emptied his balls across your back.

At the end you are drenched in cum, filled at both ends and drifting in and out of equally blissful states of consciousness and unconsciousness. At one point you are aware of being carried in strong arms up the stairs and being laid down on cool sheets. You wonder if they bothered to clean you up at all first, before deciding it isn't important.

***

"Really darling, I cannot apologize enough," Rarity says for what seems like the billionth time.

You are sitting dressed, bathed, very sore and very satisfied at her table sipping a steaming mug of coffee.

"I told Pinkie to ask you if you'd be willing to help me out, but I never thought she'd go so far as to... as to..." she seems horrified at even speaking the words, "to drug you!"

"Look," you say also for what seems like the billionth time, "I'm not mad at you. Well, I'm a little mad that you didn't think to maybe check with me before the fucking started but I'll be frank, it was fun."

Rarity's shoulders sag, and you find yourself actually feeling a bit bad for the dressmaker.

"I'd have never allowed things to go on if I'd known," she wails. Then her ears perk up as if your words had only just gotten through to her. You wait patiently while she puts her thoughts together.

"You say you had fun?" she finally asks.

You nod your head, but keep the serious expression on your face.

"I mean I know it doesn't make anything right between us, but... but... oh I don't know what to say! How can I make this right?" She looks at you with pleading in her eyes.

You wonder what she's about to say to go with that pleading. Perhaps she'll point out that if word gets out about this it will ruin her, or that she's willing to pay you for your silence and you can't help but feel a tiny bit of vindictive satisfaction for having her over a barrel like this.

"I'd never... never want to hurt a friend," she says softly.

You sigh and look away. She's just too pathetic right now, and you're still too satisfied from getting a good hard fucking last night to really be angry with her, although you suspect you'll have some choice words for Pinkie later. Then again given how screwy her brain was she'd probably be completely unable to see the problem.

"I know," you say, holding up a hand to forestall any further outbursts from her, "and to be fair, aside from the whole 'terrified for my life bit' there isn't any part of that I'd do over, but I have to ask why did you even tell Pinkie to ask me in the first place?"

Rarity looks sheepish, "well ordinarily I'm the one in your position for these little parties of mine, but I thought that my guests would appreciate a change of pace. Pinkie's filled in for me there before in the past, and I'd hoped she'd be able to find someone of a similar bent, I wasn't asking for you specifically."

You nod your head. It makes a sort of sense, you suppose, though the idea of Rarity getting off on being tied up and fucked senseless was one that would take some getting used to.

"Does Pinkie also have a cock?" you ask to fill the time.

"Oh yes," Rarity answers, "Approximately one in three mares are born hermaphrodites. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Look, next time you need someone for this, feel free to ask me, but don't get Pinkie to do it," you finish your coffee and get up to leave. You plan on just collapsing when you get home.

Rarity pays you quite well, more than double what Pinkie had promised you and as you step out into the street, you find that you are actually quite looking forward to the next time Rarity needs a party favor.

End.